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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23955220">A Torch to Light the Way</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyloric/pseuds/Tyloric'>Tyloric</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Guild Wars 2 (Video Game), Guild Wars Series (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Development, Character Study, For some reason I can only write niche fics, M/M, Rare Pairings, Romance, Snarky Main Character, Spoilers: Icebrood Saga Ep. 2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:09:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,432</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23955220</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyloric/pseuds/Tyloric</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The commander is conflicted and overwhelmed about the state of the world and his place in it. When Rytlock catches him trying to sneak away just so he can have just one moment of peace, the Charr leads him to a long lost safe haven hidden near the Eye of the North.</p><p>In which the player character gets some character development they so wildly deserve.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rytlock Brimstone/Male Human Player Character, Rytlock Brimstone/Player Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Torch to Light the Way</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Yet again I write a story about a ridiculously rare pairing. In this instance the first on AO3, I believe. </p><p>Is Rytlock a bit out of character here? Probably, but not by much. Just a slight change of attitude.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Simon pulls his cloak tighter around himself as the malignant chill of the North seems to worm its way through his layers of clothing. The Far Shiverpeaks are a different beast, he’s known that for a long time, but the temperature around the Eye of the North seems particularly frigid. Or maybe it’s the fact that two days ago he was knocking on Grenth’s door again. One or the other.</p><p>The Eye has become quite the hub of activity for the pact as of late, an Asura gate being erected smack dab in the middle of it. Even now with the sun having set hours ago, it’s as if there is no end to the hubbub. It reminds him ever so slightly of Lion’s Arch, but on a smaller scale. It’s to be expected; Bangar is on the war path and wants to tame a dragon. Things need to get done.</p><p>People need Simon in particular. </p><p>Which is precisely why he’s sneaking out the back. </p><p>Well, the back isn’t quite accurate, nor is it quite sneaking, per se. The original entrance of the Eye caved in some time ago, and while some of the rubble had been cleared on their initial entry, after the installation of the Asura gate no one has bothered to finish the job. Simon hasn't been very motivated to mention it.</p><p>No one seems to notice him as he movs through the crowd with his cowl up, making his way to the very rear of the chamber, or if anyone does no one calls him on it. But, long before he was Commander of the Pact, he was a thief skulking the streets in Divinity’s Reach. That light footedness has served him well since, combat or otherwise. A little bit of subterfuge magic notwithstanding. </p><p>He quickly begins to scale the rubble - it’s collapsed back in since their arrival - but it’s not a high climb, stepping lightly from one outcropping to the next.</p><p>“You’re sure up late,” comes the very distinct rumble of Rytlock from behind him. It’s only because of Melandru’s blessing that he doesn’t stumble backwards and plummet a good ten feet down.</p><p>Simon catches himself, heart beating a little heavier, before maneuvering himself around to face the charr. Rytlock’s expression is, as always, difficult to read. He’s come to realize that it’s not because Rytlock is a mysterious individual, Simon just has trouble with charr expressions. Which is not a thought he would ever express outloud, lest it be taken the wrong way.</p><p>“And you're," Simon begins to retort but finds he can’t come up with something snarky and so abandons the plan entirely. “Yeah.” </p><p>Rytlock crosses his arms unimpressed, his bright yellow eyes narrowing. </p><p>“Don’t look at me like that,” Simon says defensively. “I haven’t even done anything wrong. Yet.”</p><p>Rytlock stays silent and just watches. The commander knows the rules of this game; they've been playing it long enough. But Simon finds that he’s too tired and that for one night he just wants things to be simple.</p><p>"Alright, you caught me. I just need to get away from,” he makes a sweeping gesture but also finds he’s not sure how to end that statement, but he just kind of trails off. </p><p>Rytlock huffs and shakes his head. “Well, I’m coming with you.”</p><p>“I could order you to stay here.” He could.</p><p>“Will you?”</p><p>No. “Maybe.”</p><p>“You’re full of crap,” Rytlock rumbles, calling his bluff. </p><p>“Fine, yes, now hurry before someone actually starts paying attention,” Simon says with one breath before he turns and starts climbing. He’s only just lifted his hand again when there is a distinct clap, the sudden displacement of air, right above him as Rytlock materializes in view at the top of the pile of rubble. The charr’s normally yellow eyes flash with a hint of green as he stares down at Simon smugly. </p><p>The commander waits a tick before saying anything. “You’re lucky I think you’re cute.” </p><p>Rytlock’s smug grin turns into a snarl as he rumbles, “Don’t call me cute.” </p><p>“Sorry,” Simon lies. “Be useful and help me up.” A large, clawed hand reaches down and wraps itself around his and most of his forearm too, and lifts him up not at all gently. “Easy!” He gripes as he stumbles to find his footing at the top. </p><p>“Quit your whining,” the tribune mutters under his breath. Simon knows he’s not really upset. </p><p>“You’re no fun,” he responds. He takes a moment to regard the stretched out frozen lake on which the Eye of the North sits and how it stretches out into the dark on this moonless night. Seeing the seemingly endless expanse causes the wound Bangar inflicted to ache in his chest as he's gripped by an unfamiliar anxiety. Suddenly, he doesn’t want to be here. </p><p>Simon deflates as tendrils of sadness begin to circle their way around his heart.</p><p>“Come with me,” Rytlock says, starting to make his way down. “Gwen told me about something.”</p><p>“Gwen?” Simon’s mind takes a moment to place the name. “Gwen Thackery? Logan’s ancestor?” </p><p>“We met her during Dragon Fall, remember?” The tribune has the gall to sound amused.</p><p>“Of course I remember,” he replies. “But what do you mean she told you about something?”</p><p>"Just come on!” Rytlock growls impatiently, heat simmering just under his words.</p><p>In response, Simon flicks one of his daggers to land in front of Rytlock just as Charr makes it to the ground, focusing his mind in on it before he feels his being step through the shadows and appear where his dagger used to be. He narrows his eyes up at Rytlock, who is a good head and a half taller than him. Rytlock challenges his gaze with a snarl and Simon does his best not to be annoyed.</p><p>So he stands on his toes and gives Rytlock’s nose a peck with his lips. Rytlock, who hates most shows of affection, lets out an indignant roar and bats him away. Simons dances out of the way easily enough, laughing. The sound is swallowed by the dark, the only light spilling out from the top of the Eye, which is dim at best. A chill runs up the commander’s back. </p><p>He feels Aurene’s presence in the back of his skull, just for a moment, and a comforting warmth works it’s way down his spine. Simon takes a breath; he is not afraid of the dark. From his side comes the tell tale ring of steel being drawn from a sheath followed by the distinct flash of air and heat as Rytlock ignites his trusty Firey Dragon Sword, Sohothin. It’s a welcome sight, though he knows that Rytlock can see in the dark. Simon likes the thought that he brought it out for his benefit, but he doesn’t have the courage to ever ask. It probably doesn’t matter anyway.</p><p>Rytlock bumps shoulders with him. “It’s not far, supposedly. Supposed to be just around the back, if it’s still there at all.” </p><p>“Not that I'm not usually a fan of your dark and mysterious demeanor, but I’m a tad too fatigued for all the vagueness you’re currently throwing my way.”</p><p>Rytlock hums. “Don’t want to get your hopes up for something that might not be there,” he shrugs.</p><p>“Well stop teasing me, then, and lead on.”</p><p>Rytlock starts walking, moving around the right perimeter of the structure in question. It’s the first time the Commander has seen it from the outside and even in the limited light of Rytlock’s sword can he tell that the build remains more or less pristine. He wonders how that could possibly be, though he doesn’t spare much thought for it. Questions for later, one of many that may not ever have an answer. Such is his luck these days. He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t notice when the crunch of snow beneath his feet gives way to the familiar sensation of spongy earth. </p><p>“What do you know,” Rtylock says with an impressed tilt in his voice. “It really is still here.” Simon blinks and finally takes in the sight around him and for a moment swears it must be an illusion of some sort. </p><p>They’re standing in a very small glade, big enough to only fit a handful of people, whose perimeter is lined with trees Simon knows to be native from the Ascalon region. They are small, perhaps stunted in growth, but they have leaves and are very obviously alive. The ground is lush with grass and Red Iris Flowers and even the temperature of this small clearing is noticeably warmer. He suspects he could remove his overcoat and still be comfortable.</p><p>“What is this place?” Simon asks in amazement.</p><p>“Gwen said it was her garden. She told me about it.”</p><p>“How is it still here? She’s been dead for centuries.”<br/>
<br/>
The charr shrugs. “No clue. She must have worked some pretty powerful magic into the place to keep it protected. Maybe there are even locals nearby we don’t know about yet.”</p><p>The flames of Sohothin dance along the low branches of the trees and the long untended blades of grass, like sprites dancing in a meadow. It feels safe here, even homey. Simon takes a deep breath and almost chokes on it as he's met with a rush of unfamiliar emotions. He throws himself face down into the grass, relishing how it brushes and tickles his face. He laughs when the ground itself ends up being pleasantly moist. </p><p>There are tears in his eyes, he can feel them, and he’s afraid that Rytlock will judge him for them if he sees, so he doesn’t roll over. In his heart he knows that’s not true, but he can’t shake the fear of it for some reason, as irrational as it is.</p><p>“You okay down there?” He can hear the almost hidden concern in Rytlock’s voice. If he didn’t know the Tribune so well he might have missed it. </p><p>“Fine,” Simon replies, a bit manic. “Never better.” </p><p>There is a long silence, so long Simon fears perhaps Rytlock has vanished. But then there is movement at his side as the charr sits nearby. He’s quietly thankful for his companion’s proximity, even though there was still a space between them.</p><p>“What to talk about it?” Rytlock asks nonchalantly. </p><p>Simon takes a moment to gather himself before rolling over, deciding to be a bit brave and closing a bit of that distance between the two of them. Not quite touching, but still closer. Rytlock doesn’t move, so he takes it as a win.</p><p>“I feel like I should be asking you that,” the Commander replies.</p><p>The charr grunts. “I’m as good as I can be.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Simon whispers. “Me too.” </p><p>Silence, though it’s more comfortable this time. Just two long time comrades sharing each other’s company and whatever level of comfort that can bring. Simon eventually comes to a decision; if he can’t share things with Rytlock of all people, he’ll never open up to anybody. </p><p>“I feel,” he starts after some time has passed, “like I’m coming undone. Like I’m being crushed under the weight of everything I’m supposed to do. It feels like there hasn’t been a single moment’s peace since this all began, since we all took up the mantle of dragon killers. We fought and killed Zhaitan, and immediately Scarlet reared her ugly head and woke up Modremoth, and it’s been non-stop since then. We’ve fought dragons, and gods, and liches and,” his voice hitches as a lump forms in his throat, but he fights it back. Tears are not what he wants. “And I’ve died twice in this war. This war with no end in sight. I’m trying to be the leader everyone needs, but with each battle and every lost friend and comrade it gets harder. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on to this brave face I must show everyone.”</p><p>He feels Bangar’s arrow in his chest again, a phantom pain that feels fresh as ever. He grits his teeth through it and attempts to massage it away. The tears come anyway, though he does not quake or sob, he just lets them roll free down the sides of his face for a moment before he wipes them away with his sleeve. </p><p>“Okay,” Simon sniffs before Rytlock can respond. “Your turn.” It’s a poor attempt at a deflection and humor but Rytlock offers him a quick chuckle all the same.</p><p>“I just want to save Ryland,” the Tribune responds. “I know there is more at stake, but that’s what I keep thinking about. That and caving Bangar’s face in. I wouldn’t mind doing that either.”</p><p>“You love him,” Simon says.</p><p>“Yeah,” Rytlock replies after a beat. “He’s my son.”</p><p>“We’ll save him, him and as many others as we can.” Simon sits up. “But I promise you, definitely him. You have my word.”</p><p>Rytlock turns and regards him seriously for a drawn out moment. “For someone feeling overwhelmed you sure are quick to take on more responsibility.”</p><p>Simon lets out a startled laugh and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I guess it’s just a habit at this point. I have trouble walking away from people who need my help. Wasn’t always true.” </p><p>“There are worse qualities,” Rytlock says somewhat gravely. </p><p>The human gives his charr companion his first real smile of the night. “I’ve got plenty of people who will keep me in line. Just had to say it all out loud, I think.”</p><p>There is a rumble in Rytlock’s chest and Simon isn’t quite sure what it means. “Me too, I guess,” is all he says.</p><p>The silence begins anew, though something else had been added to it, something more intimate. A sort of resonance has settled between them and Simon finds himself being pulled in Rytlock’s direction, wanting to get closer, to finish closing that gap. He finds that he’s more than a little wanting of it, almost even craving that connection, which is probably what gives him the courage to finally voice the other thing that’s been on his mind.</p><p>“This,” he hesitates, “whatever it is between us. You feel it too, right? I’m not crazy?”</p><p>He doesn’t turn to look at Rytlock but he hears him take a deep breath before answering. “No, you’re aren’t crazy.”</p><p>Simon nods. “I’ve gotten fond of you, especially as of late. But then Bangar happened so I didn’t feel it was appropriate to mention it anymore, because you were knee deep in what was happening. But this might be our last moment of quiet in, well, ever if we’re unlucky, and I want to continue forward with as few regrets as possible.</p><p>I know these sorts of things can be different for charr, ‘romance’ or whatever you want to call it, but I-”</p><p>He’s cut off as Rytlock’s hand pushes him backwards onto his back, and he lands hard enough that he can’t help the grunt that escapes him as some of the air is knocked from his lungs. Before he can react there is about four hundred pounds of charr hovering above him, two hands on either side of Simon’s head, both legs straddling him. The charr is holding himself up instead of resting on Simon presumably because he’s still fully garbed in his armor, not that the Commander has much brain power to spare for that thought.</p><p>The expression on Rytlock’s face is intense, made only more intimidating with only half his face being visible, the only light comes from his now abandoned sword lying on the ground. Thankfully that magical flame ignites only what it’s wielder wants it to ignite. Rytlock’s gaze is locked with his, fierce and focused. His breathing is labored, like he just got done jogging a great distance. Simon opens his mouth to say something but no sound comes out. All he can do is stare back, wide eyed and waiting. The way the fire light dances across the Tribune’s form is both haunting and beautiful.  </p><p>Then Rytlock is leaning down and pressing his forehead against Simons, a deep rumble emanating from his chest, like he was purring, if purring sounded like the rolling of thunder on a stormy night. Simon's heart feels like it's going to explode out of his chest, but even so he decides to be brave and reach up and cup the sides of Rytlock’s face in his hands, massaging the beginnings of his snout with his thumbs.</p><p>The charr lets out a growl of appreciation, but otherwise doesn’t move. They stay like that for a long while, the minutes stretching on, to the point and Simon is half worried that Rytlock’s arms might be getting tired, but selfishly doesn’t mention it because he doesn’t want the Charr above him to move away. If anything, he wishes he could remove his compaion’s armor so that Rytlock could rest his entire weight on Simon with some semblance of comfort, to really feel that closeness that was suddenly between them.</p><p>But he has to settle, so he goes for the next best thing. He adjusts himself so he can place his lips just above Rytlock’s brow line, right in between his eyes. Again, the charr rumbles his approval. </p><p>It’s Rytlock’s turn to start moving, pulling back ever so slightly so he can nuzzle his snout underneath Simon’s chin. He begins to move along his jawline where Simon feels the sudden wetness of the charr’s tounge long dragging along the sensitive parts of his throat, just over his jugular and he can’t contain his gasp fast enough. Rytlock takes that as a sign of encouragement to take things a step further, opening his maw wide enough so he can rake his fangs along his flesh, just hard enough that Simon can feel the sting of pressure. He hopes it leaves a mark, something he can feel and remember in the morning, even if it means dodging uncomfortable questions from others.</p><p>“Gods,” Simon breathes, back arching as his fists instinctively clench and tug at the fur along Rytlock’s neck.</p><p>Instead of complaining the charr lets out an amused chuckle and growls into the helpless human’s ear, “I always wondered if you had a weak spot somewhere.”</p><p>Somehow Simon is able to respond, “And of course it would be you of all people who finds it.” </p><p>Rytlock rubs the side of his snout against Simon’s cheek. “Your beard feels good.”</p><p>“I aim to please.”</p><p>They continue like that for a while. Lightly exploring each other but never going too far down the rabbit hole, both somehow in tune with the other’s boundaries without actually needing to say them outloud. Simon never wants it to end, wants this to just be his life from now on, possibly forever. </p><p>But all good things must end eventually.</p><p>“Arms are getting tired,” Rytlock grunts eventually and Simon can’t help but laugh.</p><p>“Was wondering how long it would take,” and Simon meets his gaze with reservation or fear this time, mouth turned up into a content smile, eyes crinkled. He decided to try his luck just one more time, take one final leap just to see what happens. Lifting his head off the ground ever so slightly, he presses his lips against Rytlock’s, right at the end of his snout, and waits.</p><p>Rytlock doesn’t react immediately, but after a few seconds his mouth parts and his tongue snakes out to trace the shape of Simon’s lips, the human in question letting out a contented sigh. He flicks his own tongue out, and they swirl around each other for only a couple of seconds, before Simon pulls back.</p><p>“Doesn’t have to be complicated,” Rytlock says, standing back up, offering Simon a hand.</p><p>“No, I guess it doesn’t. We might not get this chance to do,” he stops and thinks for a moment but finds he can’t come up with a satisfactory word. “This again for a long while.”</p><p>“We will, eventually.” Rytlock rumbles, certain. “Another goal to aim at.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah I guess it is.”</p><p>They walk back together quietly, Rytlock once again guiding the way with Sohothin.</p><p>“You know, it was kind of stupid of us to let our guard down out here. Especially in the middle of the night,” Simon notes.</p><p>“I think that place has survived out of sheer force of will,” Rytlock responds confidently. “I doubt anything would have tried to bother us there.”</p><p>Simon thinks about it for a moment. “Think we should tell Logan we made out in his ancestor’s garden?”</p><p>Rytlock snorts.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For those of you who haven't played Guild Wars 1, Gwen's Garden is indeed a real location in the game. More info on it can be found here: https://wiki.guildwars.com/wiki/Gwen%27s_garden</p><p>Thank you for reading. All two of you.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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